Absent From Felicity Awhile
by Tacitus Shadowrunner
Summary: They were known as Whalers. They stalked the city of Dunwall like reapers through wheat. Before Daud found them they ran, stole, kidnapped, and killed. And who knows may they'll return to it afterwards.
1. Secrets

_Set some time before the events of Dishonored. About two to three years. No Rat Plague, just the scum-of-the-earth aristocrats, the Whalers, and of course Thomas._

Secrets

It was a beautiful day outside—well, beautiful for Dunwall's standards. The sun was shining through the clouds, banishing the regular grey tint from the skies that day. Unfortunately for Thomas, he was stuck in doors. On the bright side he the building he was stuck in was the Golden Cat, it was not half as bad as he thought it would be. The Golden Cat was far better than any other brothel in Dunwall, arguably in all of Gristol. He ran his fingers down the waist of the girl on his lap, then settled on her hips and smiled mischievously. She only rolled her eyes and pursed her lips, that changed when he ran his fingers up her sides again. A hint of surprise, a smile reached her eyes. Even through her corset, he could feel her abdominal muscles coil and grow taut for a moment.

 _Whaddya' know?_ He looked at her for a moment and thought he caught the glimpse of a smile. _She might actually be enjoying this_. Alas, it only lasted a moment and the expression vanished. Instead of boredom, a hint of anger was in its place now. She looked like she was going to kill him. Luckily, the floorboards creaked ever so softly as a nobleman rounded the corner, looked around then entered a room a couple of girls entered not long after. A couple of Watchmen stepped in front of the door a mere moment later. Dunwall's own City Watchmen, probably paid off by the paranoid nobleman in the room. His reputation for irrational fears also meant that the Watchmen didn't take him seriously.

The girl distractedly looked back at the guards and turned back around to Thomas, "That him?"

"Reginald Carlton, looking over his shoulders and fidgety as ever." Thomas said, with an amused tone.

"Alright then. Get moving then, I feel… uncomfortable." The girl replied.

"Really, Quinn? You of all people?" Thomas said smiling. Quinn harrumphed, then moved off of him, kneeing him in the stomach at the same time. Thomas seized up, half in laughter, half in pain. Thomas smiled all the while and picked up his crumpled shirt and moved nonchalantly past the guards; like a man exhausted from sex, and disappointed at having to leave. The Guards paid little attention to him. They were tired, and more importantly, they were bored. Bored made you lax, it made you forget things, ignore things, open to distractions. And there were plenty of distractions at the Golden Cat.

His current cover meant no Whaler blades, no wristbows, just small fist knife in his boot, and garrote line hidden around his belt. It was enough, and if things went according to plan he would not even need them at all. Perhaps after this job, Daud would train him some more, grant him an ability or two other than the transversals. Give him some runes.

He pretended he was walking down the stairs, as soon as he was out of sight he blinked out the window. He put his shirt on and scaled the exterior of the Golden Cat—its lavish architecture lending him many handholds and footings. He moved around the building till he could see the balcony of Carlton's room to his right. There was a guard there, but that was going to change soon.

As if on cue, Quinn appeared on the balcony on the far right and yawned loudly and stretched. Carlton's guard was bored as expected—he instantly lit up when Quinn appeared. Thomas transversed over to the balcony, then opened the door-in less than a second he was inside.

 _Every man has his vice. He can be careful and overcautious, but find the right vice, and a man will lose himself._ He recalled Daud's words, the words Daud used in training the novice but a year ago. Thomas moved swiftly, though the man was looking away, he could turn back at any moment and Thomas would need a miracle to get out.

There was bottle and a glass of half-drunk whiskey, Thomas pulled out a vial from his pocket and poured the clear fluid into the drink. The man was turning towards him— _shite_. Thomas dropped flat on the floor and rolled under the bed. The place stunk of sweat and other things better left unsaid. It was a while before Carlton finished. By then Thomas had had to shut off all his sensory faculties save his sight and hearing. The man didn't say many things—again his paranoia came into play. Slightly unusual, considering the bedrooms of pleasure houses were usually where everyone spilled their secrets. Didn't matter your gender, age, rank—in their eyes the women were just whores. Oh how mistaken they were. When they talked, the girls listened and then they remembered.

Madame Lucille was an intelligent one. She kept the girls taken care of, and in return they told her the secrets. At first she was frightened, all the information that ran through the Golden Cat scared her. From trivial opinions, to the scandalous gossip, down to state secrets. She had enough information to ruin the Empire, she just did not want to. That was when she came to Daud, who incorporated her into his network of spies and guaranteed her safety. Lucille loved her girls, that was why this operation was kept under a tight secrecy. Even from the girls themselves, due to Carlton's paranoia—that was where Quinn came in.

Thomas lay there under the tangle of flesh and sweat, and wondered if there was any more important information to find. There was none, other than the mention of the Diplomatic mission to Morley he was going to take in two days. But Thomas already knew that—it was the reason he was here. He was finally able to rest easy when he heard the man pick up the drink and finish its contents. And like that the mission was complete. In several hours the man would fall desperately sick, he would recover, of course. He had a collection of physicians he knew and hired often. Once again, due to his paranoia. However, in the end it appear as nothing more than a bad case of indigestion. He would get well in a week.

But he _would_ miss that diplomatic trip.

The bed creaked as Carlton got up and got dressed, he called in the guards and then left soon after. The girls took a little longer to clean after themselves before they left. Thomas shifted under the bed and crept slowly towards the edge and lifted the curtains slightly.

Incoming footsteps, Thomas froze and slowly drew back into the shadows until, "Thomas?" the voice whispered.

Thomas rolled out from under the bed and climbed to his feet. Quinn looked down with an amused smirk. "Not a word to the crew." Thomas said though he knew she would still tell later on.

"My lips are sealed," she replied with the sarcasm he expected. He was dusting off his trousers and shirt when she asked, "Are those cufflinks yours?"

"I don't wear cufflinks," Thomas replied, still busy dusting himself off. Then he was taken by surprise when she grabbed him by the collar and threw him on the bed. She straddled him and attacked him with kisses. She began to undo his shirt and moan in fake pleasure. And as surprised as Thomas was, he did not look forward to stopping her. _What the—oh well._ He returned her kisses with a passion that was not so faked. It was when he heard the footsteps he understood, he kissed Quinn on the ear and started down the side of her neck to steal a look at whoever it was.

It was Carlton; coming to pick up the cufflinks he left behind and pretending that the scene in front of his wasn't happening. The man left quickly and Quinn's act ended abruptly. Thomas settled back, his hands not moving from her thighs. "Uhh, good thinking?" And it was, despite Quinn's unwillingness to agree. Awkward situations tend to be suppressed by the mind. Carlton would probably think them improper but would soon want nothing but to forget he ever witnessed them.

Quinn only harrumphed and got to her feet, no doubt with memories of her own she wished to suppress. The two walked briskly to the secondary stair case, and down to the basement. Where Quinn picked up the rest of her clothes and then they left via the back exit towards the docks. Jenkins was there assuming the role of boatman.

"Thomas," Quinn said coldly, "Not a word. To anyone."

"Not a word about the whole under the bed thing?" Thomas said with playful tone.

"Done." Quinn said with a deadly tone.

"Done."

Jenkins threw away his cigarette when he saw them approach and started up the boat's engine. "Nothing interesting, I assume?" he asked as the pair stepped in.

Thomas looked back at Quinn and smiled, "A couple of unexpected turns," He saw Quinn neck muscle tense and gaze turn to knives, "But nothing to worry about."

 _Quick note/trivia: the title given to this collection of stories comes from Hamlet._ If thou didst ever hold me in thy heart/Absent thee from felicity a while,/And in this harsh world draw thy breath in pain/To tell my story. _Gotta' love Hamlet._


	2. Service - Part 1

**Can't believe it's almost been a year since my last chapter for this story. This one is going to be a three-part arc, I think. Hope you guys enjoy this.**

 **Summary: Many Whalers left Dunwall after they disbanded, but some chose to stay and build a life among the buildings they once stalked at night. Aeolos is one such Whaler, thinking that he could remain here as long as he stayed away from his past and it stayed away from him. But as fate would have it, somethings are just intertwined, plain and simple.**

 **Takes place about five years into Emily's reign as Empress.**

 **Service - Part 1**

The weather overhead was the same as the day Aeolos changed the course of history. The same shade as the day he ripped the current empress from the then empress' embrace.

A cold, milky blue hue. It was strangely peaceful, but also haunting.

It filled him with a deep sense of unease. The longer he examined the skies the more dreaded he felt. Like a mass of bad fucking luck was gathering, slowly swimming beneath like some leviathan predator. Aeolos tore his eyes for the window and back down to earth. There was nothing to gain from fueling the false foreboding, no matter how real it felt. This isn't the first time gloomy weather paid Dunwall a visit, neither would it be the first time it filled his mind with unnecessary disquiet.

His hands, they were fidgeting. Be still.

He dug into the bag at the foot of his locker and pulled out two flechettes and tucked them into the ankles of his boots. Come to think of it, the weather was not all that different the day they thought they had Corvo in the bag.. And what a day that turned out to be.

"Olie, Hurry up!" Hewell called out from down the hall, his voice thick with the lowborn accent. Aeolos pulled his trouser legs to cover up the flechettes, "Cap's gonna have our asses if we ain't down there in time!"

His hands, Aeolos realized, when had they begun fidgeting again? "One second!" He strapped his sword to his hip and put his City Watch helmet on.

"By the bleedin' Void, Olie, won't ya' hurry up! Where's the skip in ya' step?" his partner asked, going down to the locker room to check on him. "It's not every day the empress comes all the way down from Dunwall Tower ta' visit."

"Then ya' see why I'm nervous," Aeolos lied, quickly easing himself into the accent he'd spent the last few years perfecting. "Her 'ole bleedin' reign ahead of her and she picks this day. And all of the isles to pick from, and she chooses—"

"The Old Port District! Ain't it fantastic?"

"Fantastic?" He replied, "It's a recipe fer a soddin' nightmare. And she won't even bring more of her own troops."

"Well, well, well… aren't ya' just a ray of bleedin' sunshine?" Hewell placed his hands on his hips and looked sternly at his friend, "The empress is here on a goodwill trip. She's tryin' ta'… ya' know, reach out and talk to the people. Makes sense if she uses local law enforcement, looks better on the papers and stuff."

Aeolos liked to discredit Hewell's attempts to understand the politicking of Dunwall's higher echelons. But this time the man had a point. The Empress was nothing if not a woman of the people, she had proven nothing but that for the past five years.

"Aeolus!" The watch captain shouted as the two emerged unto the precinct's courtyard.

"Sir?"

"You and Hewell take forward positions on the convoy."

"Right next to the Cobalts? Aeolos said, slightly worried. Last thing he wanted was to be right up with Corvo and the Empress' and her closest bodyguards.

"Look, laddie, worst case scenario's some fella in the crowd shouts an insult at the empress. The crowd'll probably 'andle 'em themselves. But if anything happens I want my best swordsman to right next to the Empress and the Cobalt Guard. The rest of you take your positions by the crowd and behind the Cobalts. Look sharp, and stay on your toes, it's not every day Empress Emily Kaldwin herself comes down to our District."

-x-x-x-

"I don't like this." Corvo muttered.

"That's the fifth time you've said that." Emily replied, looking up from her journal and at Corvo—who, though he was stock still, betrayed an air of nervousness for his darting eyes.

"That's because I really do not like this idea."

"Sixth." Emily noted.

"I know your intentions are noble, and if I do so will the people. You're not doing anyone any favours by risking your life today. At me least double your security."

"And sit here another half an hour and wait."

"You've waited six months for the security reports to finally come in. What's thirty minutes?"

"That's not the issue here, Corvo." Emily straightened herself, and closed her journal—something she so often did when putting her foot down, "You remember what the Herald wrote last time I came in with half of the garrison at Dunwall Tower around me."

"Silly idiots without the slightest idea about managing a security detail."

"You're missing the point! I need to send a message: That I, Emily Kaldwin, is not afraid to get down and dirty with the people. That I'm not going to ride my high horse and wish the people of the lost Districts a speedy recovery. I have to show compassion, I can't do that with a hundred armed guards interfering with my pathos."

"Fifty."

"It was hyperbole, Corvo. The Cobalt guard is more than capable of my security and so is the Old Port District Watch."

Corvo let out a long tired breath, he wasn't getting anywhere. Besides she was his liege, and he was under her orders. Another few months and she would be a full adult and he would no longer hold regency. Time had come for her to take control of her life, and from the steely resolve her eyes reflected in her eyes, she was more than capable of it. The two shared a warm smile, before finally, "Fine. Be Empress they need you to be."

"Thank you."

-x-x-x-

"And you say that the piping underneath the District is still bothersome?"

"Not to slight yer' highness—"

"And you run no risk of slighting anyone, Mr. Hudgens."

"The City Watch keep sayin' that the sewers are clear and the weepers are gone, but no inspector has gone down there in ages. The Local boys try, but the lads don't understand what needs to be done, yer' highness."

"I will see to it that the city's officials deal with the problem quickly. And the soup kitchens, Mr. Hudgens, how is the business going?" Mr. Hudgens pleasant expression broke for one second as he searched for the words. "Well, I hope?"

"Yes, your highness."

"Good, the Hound Pits offered me a home and comfort during dark times. I delight to see the rest of the Old Port District be able to find the same comfort in their difficult times." The man's pleasant expression never fully returned. A fraction of his attention always seemed to be someplace else as the rest of the pleasantries were exchanged.

"Was it just me or did Mr. Hudgens in there seem…"

"Distracted?" Corvo crossed the threshold first and scanned the street with hawkish eyes before he let Emily step outside, "My agents say the local gangs haven't taken very kindly to the soup kitchens, neither have the merchants."

Emily's eyebrows crested into a frown, "One day you and I are going to have to have a talk about these agents of yours."

"Of course your highness. I will have to—"

"Corvo?" She looked back at him to find his eyes had gone entirely black, from the pupils down to the whites. He had tucked his left hand deep into his pockets lest the crowd she them shine with the most dreaded symbol in all the Isles. He grabbed her hand and rushed forward, whilst still scanning the streets with his Dark Vision.

He pointed to two of the nearest Cobalt, Guards. "Higgins! Trelov! The carriage!" The two swung into action quickly. The former climbing into the driver's seat and the latter opening the carriage door as well as pulling out his pistol. As soon as Corvo slammed the door close behind him, the carriage rabbited forwards on it's tracks. The horse mounted Cobalts flanked either side. But those on foot, the rest of the Cobalts and some City Watchmen, lagged far behind. Although it wasn't for long. He saw the smoke crawling through the streets before he saw the blockade, wooden furniture stacked high and burning hot. The Carriage grinded to a halt.

"Higgins?"

"I can't sir, even if we could ram through the tracks up ahead are torn up."

"Get the horses."

"Corvo—" She stopped as she saw the blade unravel and expand into being in Corvo's hands. So it had been since she saw that blade unfold. "The people, make sure they're alright."

"They're being evacuated as we speak. Right now, you are my primary concern."

"Horses are ready sir." Trelov barked in his familiar Tyvian accent.

"You're riding with me Emily." The smoke wasn't thick, but Emily couldn't see the tops of the buildings, and that worried her greatly. No sooner had she stepped outside the carriage, a Cobalt threw himself in front of her and landed on the ground. He clutched his chest, which was oozing streams of red. Corvo swooped her up in his arms and then the world around them blurred in a vortex-like fashion. A blink of an eye, and she had traveled five feet and up unto her horse. If the maneuver surprised any of the Cobalt Guards, they showed no evidence of it. Higgins and Trelov swung behind them, somehow already on their own horses. Emily had been through crises before, many since her rise to the throne. By now, she had expected some of the edge to wear off. It hadn't.

Her heart pounded so hard she could swear her ribcage rattled with each beat. Corvo's face remained stoic, Higgins and Trelov as well. Even as their assailants emerged, like ghosts, from the curtain of smoke—they remained stoic. One lurched backwards and fell, courtesy of Higgins' pistol. Trelov had his own pistol out, but before anything could happen an inhuman war cry emerged from behind them. Trelov pulled his pistol back as a figure rushed from behind them and meet the attackers with such ferocity they were pushed back. Vanished in the smoke. She felt Corvo reverberate with a chuckle. Then she recognized the voice screaming.

"McKenna?"

Corvo nodded, "She'll give us the time we'll need." He kicked the horse forward and back down the road they went through.

"We're just leaving her?"

"I know Commander McKenna. If anything, it's those men and women I'm worried about. There'll be nothing left of them by the time she's done." He turned to the two Cobalts following them. "We'll circle around and take the long way to Kaldwin's Bridge." Higgins and Trelov answered in the affirmative and rushed their horses forward. Two hundred paces down the road, another pile of furniture, burning high, blocked the road. Left and right, men and women in grey clothes emerged from the old buildings. It was lucky some of the City Watch and the Cobalt Guard had lagged behind. Or else they would have been scattered as the four of them doubled back. Trelov and Higgins peeled off and went down an alley, before shouting the affirmative. Emily didn't have time to look back, but she had already seen enough. The Cobalts themselves were struggling. The lower Watch barely had any training coming into the force, they were getting slaughtered.

Down the alley they were travelling another wall of smoke seemed to appear out of nowhere and engulf the four of them.

"What the hell?" Higgins exclaimed, reeling his horse back. as the ground beneath them began to unravel "It's the sewers, they're cutting us off from the sewers—" From the smoke a net was thrown and the two Cobalts went down. A crack of pistol and down went Trelov, clutching his leg. Higgins went to defend his fellow Cobalt when their assailant made his entrance and ended Higgins' attempt with a bayonet. They were surrounded.

"Emily. Stay here."

"Wait," She turned to grab Corvo's hand but reeled back when they stung with something akin to electricity. His hand was glowing with arcane light; Corvo's eyes had gone steely cold. "Don't go. Not yet—"

"Outsiders eyes—"

"In the name of the Void—"

The voices abruptly ended with grunts and gurgles. From the direction of the street, the assailants were rushing out of the smoke. But not to attack, they were retreating. Or they were trying to before a figure cut them down. Several of them but the smoke betrayed little to Emily's eyes. Then figure shot out of the smoke. Running at full speed, the man slid under their horse and emerged from the other side to engage assailants who tried to cut them off. He cut away the net that caught Higgins and Trelov, then vanished in the smoke.

His fighting, however intense did not disturb the smoke. His movements seemed to swirl with the smoke, his sword moved with fluidity that wasn't all that foreign. Emily's memory ticked with the vaguest familiarity at the sight. His uniform wasn't Cobalt, as she expected though. They were the grimy blue of the City Watch. The Watchman locked swords with one gray clothed attacker, then slid the sword aside. The attacker lost his balance and fell forward, into the path of another that tried to sneak up on the Watchman. His sword cut once then stabbed once and the attackers fell. Without missing a beat, he turned and locked blades with another.

"Get him!" The Watchman shouted, and Emily thought he was speaking to them, but the man's partner emerged from the smoke and helped Trelov up.

"Emily, change of plans." Corvo whispered to her and dismounted. His eyes searched the ground until he found what he was looking for. Manhole, down to the sewage tunnels below Old Port District.

"You," Corvo shouted at the Watchman holding Trelov.

"Milord?"

"This way," Corvo pointed down the hatch. He pointed to Emily and Trelov, "Them first."

As Trelov gave them the all clear, and they successfully lowered Emily, the Watchman turned back to his friend. "Olie!"

"Go, Hewell, I'll join you shortly."

Corvo, knew the resolve of a man determined to keep fighting when he heard it. "Go," he lied, "I'll get your friend."

To his horror as soon as Hewell landed on the Sewer floor, Corvo jumped down and pulled the key from the lock. "What are ya' doin'?"

"You friend had made his choice," Corvo mentioned, as the door grinded to a close. "His sacrifice will not be in vain."


	3. Service - Part 2

**Forgive the really long wait. But here it is . Hope you enjoy it.**

 **Service - Part 2**

Hewell watched in shock and helpness and the Sewer hatch slowly began to close, leaving his friend on the other side.

"You friend had made his choice," Corvo mentioned, as the door grinded to a close. "His sacrifice will not be in vain."

"No it won't," Aeolos said, dropping down the just as it snapped shut and landed in the space between Corvo and Hewell. Hewell's surprise was a delighted one, while Corvo's caused him to furrow his brow.

"I told him I would join him shortly, I like to keep my promises."

"Nice of you to join us and all, but what's the plan?" Trelov asked, still clutching his leg. "If memory serves, the sewers are how those ' _suka_ got to us in the first place."

"You're in the presence of her Imperial Majesty." Corvo snapped, "You will watch your language, Lieutenant Trelov."

Aeolus watched as the frustration withdrew for the man's eyes and he looked away in embarrassment. But then the empress took his hand, "It's fine, Corvo. You're in a lot of pain, Trelov. I'm sure we all slip one point or another."

"As I said, my Lord Attano. These tunnels must be crawling with those attackers. We'd be mad to come running down here."

"Which is why we're here, in the first place." Aeolos chimed in, realizing. "If the assailants up there are relying on the tunnels down here to carry out their attack, then this is the last place they're expecting us to go."

Corvo regarded him for a good ten seconds, Aeolos was tempted to return the man's icy stare but looked meekly at the ground. If he was a lowborn, which was what he wanted people to believe, he should act like it. "The boy is right. Going down here is the last thing they expect. And if they're hoping to trap us down here, they'd be disappointed. I've spent the better part of a year down in these tunnels."

"The Loyalist plot. They hid the Empress here didn't they? Those stories _were_ true." Hewell babbled in excitement.

Corvo merely smirked and turned to Trelov. "Status?"

"Higgins is gone, my lord. I don't think I can manage more than a hobble, not with my leg in this state."

"Don't worry, Trelov. Speed isn't the question down here. It's _stealth._ "

"Trelov, let me tend to you foot." Emily bent down and tore a long strip of her suit jacket. The man shied away, at which point the empress only responded, "I insisted."

"My lord, with your permission, I'll search ahead and establish perimeter." Aeolos volunteered, to which Corvo only nodded.

"I'll join 'im, milord." Hewell announced and tagged behind his Watch partner as he explored the tunnels. Once they were several metres down the way an out of earshot, he grabbed Aeolos' shoulder, "Olie. What's gotten into ya'? Talkin' all fancy like a highborn?"

"Keep yer' voice down." Aeolos rebuked, letting himself fall back into character. "What ya' talkin' about."

"Don't lie, Olie. The man I saw talkin' to the Lord Protector back there, and the Empress… that ain't the Olie I know. And I ain't just talkin' about the accent, yer' fightin, yer' voice—bleedin' hell, even the way ya stand ain't the same!"

"Well, the Olie you know, isn't the Olie I used to be."

"See! There it is again. Void take me… it's like yer' an entirely different person."

"It's a long story, Hewell, and I don't have the time."

"Long story? Just somethin' people say when they ain't keen on tellin' the truth."

"But what I told the Watch is true. I _was_ raised with—" his explanation was cut short.

"Watchman, what's our status?" Corvo asked all of a sudden appearing behind them in a flash of black. Hewell's eyes went wide with surprise. While Aeolos just silently pretended not to have seen the Lord Protector's Transversal. Although he didn't have to fake jumping back when he fully realized how close Corvo had gotten.

"It's all clear—" Hewell tried to reassure before Aeolos cut him off.

"There's a group waiting about fifty metres down this corridor," Aeolos said, indicating to the left of the T junction. "Whether they're patrolling or just auxiliaries waiting for orders, I don't know. Nothing to the right, as far as I can tell just echoes. A dead end, if i remember correctly, I don't remember the sewers as well as used to."

"No," Corvo replied, but then reassured, "But I do."

Corvo nodded, then made some tactical hand gesture that they didn't teach the City Watch. But if Daud's Training was anything to go by, Aeolos reckoned they meant _move up_ or _regroup._ Then he pointed at Hewell, "You assist the lieutenant with the empress, you, with me." Aeolos nodded and joined Corvo as the man continued down where to voices came from. "You have a name?"

"Aeolos, but people find it easier just to call me Olie."

"Aeolos? You Serkonan?"

"Don't know my lord, but I was raised by Serkonans." Aeolos replied, one of the few things he can be truthful about. He managed to breathe easy when a look of approval flashed across the Lord Protector's mostly stoic visage.

Withdrawing a familiar weapon and letting the blade unfold in his hands, Corvo asked. "Can you kill a man without making a sound?"

"I'll need a moment," Aeolos replied, then slowly unstrapped the metal plates on his chest and arms.

Corvo smiled, the lad was a capable one. Without the armor, he seemed like a smaller, thinner. But there was a fluidity to his movement that only came with rigorous training. A good fighter, Corvo knew, did not fall in and out of combat stances. One continuously flowed with them, the dexterity didn't cease with when the fighting did. It was always visible, in the way one does everyday things. Corvo liked the Watchman, but it also tickled some part of Corvo's mind. The part that did not let good exist without condition.

"Ready," Aeolos whispered, having stripped off the noisy metal shoulder guards, bracers, and gauntlets. Then he realized the attention the Lord Protector had been giving him. "What's our plan here."

"There's an tertiary extraction point, down by the river. We head to the hound pits pub and wade down the river. A ship will be waiting halfway to Kaldwin's Bridge. But there will be more than a handful of them to take carefully." He pointed down the tunnel, where the attacks were present.

The voices betrayed their numbers. There were five of them and Aeolos could smell their cigar smoke even over the sewage. And the jocularity of their conversation seemed to suggest they were not on duty. So auxiliary troops then. Corvo withdrew his crossbow and made some tactical gestures with his free hand. Aeolos nearly jumped to action, but thankfully he caught himself.

"What do they mean?" Aeolos asked, trying to stay in character.

"I'll take the furthest ones, you take the closer ones."

"On my go?"

Corvo issued a wordless affirmative as they closed the final few paces and Aeolos jumped into action. Aeolos kept his blade low, almost parallel with his waist line, with the sharp side pointing up. His Watch captain always frowned whenever Aeolos used the technique, but Aeolos could not rely on the strength the rest of the Watchmen had. He slashed upwards scoring a deep gash across the spine. And while the first man stumbled to the ground, Aeolos angled the sharp end down, and sliced through the neck of the second man with a diagonal strike. He coiled his muscles and let them catapult him forward in a rapid burst of speed. He let his blade fall low, nearly parallel to the ground and nearly sliced the next man's lower limbs clean off. He stopped then slid letting the momentum help him spin in place and carry his blade around then up. Angling his blade up meant he hardly had put any more power in his swing. Gravity and his leftover momentum made sure that when the blade met the falling man, skin, muscle and bone parted all the same.

Aeolos turned, true to his word, the remaining two had all but dropped dead bristling with bolts. _Not bolts_ Aeolos realized,sleeping darts. They were still alive.

"What good will that do us?" Aeolos asked, nudging the snoring man.

"None, but being merely in my way does not warrant a death blow. I will not kill unless I _absolutely_ have to. Unless you have good reason, a man in your way is just that: a man who happens to be standing between you and whatever your real objective is. That is no crime." The Lord Protector regarded the dead on the ground, and Aeolos felt a stab of guilt.

 _So that's why you didn't kill me that day. Or Daud._

"I think I understand."

"Good, let's go." Corvo led them down the tunnels. And the lack of hesitation proved that the knowledge he had back then had not in any way been lost. The man even knew alternative routes, and shortcuts. Any time Aeolos had had to pull out his sword, Corvo only raised his arm and wordlessly pointed in another direction. He was a tactician that did not think in straight lines, nor was he one that favoured confrontation. Aeolos could see how even the Whalers had trouble, or how the city was dumbfounded when the Spymaster's regime fell. The man was a bloody ghost.

The loudest thing to happen on their trip was the sewer hatch grinding open next to the Hound Pits cellar. Aeolos, had to again fake his amazement when Corvo made an unhuman leap up, whilst holding Emily in his arms. One thing they had not accounted for was the crowd, still gathered around the Pub. Some struck with confusion at Emily's abrupt departure—oblivious as to the attempt on her life. While those who knew, were struck with fear at the attempt. They had to move past the crowd and down to the docks. And if working with assassins had taught him anything, it was how to hide in plain sight.

"Here," Aeolos took off his City Watch coat, and handed it to Corvo, "She needs to be less conspicuous."

"He's right," Corvo affirmed, taking the coat in his hands, "Diamond formation, around the Empress, we'll walk her down the water."

"How are we going to get to the extraction point, the tide is too high for us to wade through."

Corvo eyed the waterline until his expression lightened. "We may not have to, if we can get down to the docks we can use our flares to flag down that Patrol boat."

"If we they can see it, so will whoever is after the Empress," Aeolos warned.

"We'll fight 'em off." Hewell reassured them, "They'll be havin' a hard time moving through the crowd. Let alone fight us."

"No," the Empress issued, stopping them short. "I can't risk these people being caught in the crossfire."

"With all due respect, your majesty. Our assailants are locals, it's the only way they could have known to use the sewers. They wouldn't attack their own" Aeolos reassured, "If it pleases you, my partner and I will draw their attention away from the crowd."

"The Watchman is right, Emily." Corvo took her hand, "There is no time to waste." Then the five of them waded into the anxious crowd. In his hand Trelov already had extracted a flare from his belt pouch, and had primed the fuse. Once near the pier, he pointed it upwards and fired it. As the incandescent orb shot into the air, another orb shot from out in the water followed by boat's horn issuing a reply. Sooner than he had anticipated, elements within the crowd moved. As furtive as they were they did not match the ebb and flow of the crowd, they instead made for Emily and the Pier. Aeolos took Hewell by the shoulder, "Protect her," he said and peeled off the formation. Blade in one hand, a flechette in the other.

Faking left, he threw a flechette in the blade's stead. Before the projectile traveled all the way, he had launched to the right and slapped away an attacker's weak parry. The unbalanced man fell to the right, and Aeolos spun left—gutting him with a backhand grip and engaging the next man. The next man would not be caught unaware; their blades struck and Aeolos swore as his flow broke. Momentum lost, he drew back and then faked a strike to his right. He let the tension his hand grow taught until, like a rubber band, it snapped to the left and Aeolos struck from there. The next man managed to level his pistol at Aeolos, but before he could pull the trigger, Aeolos extended his blade forward as far as it would go and slapped the barrel aside.

The bullet missed him by a mere few centimetres, heat grazing his neck. But that was not his problem. In the last attempt to foil the shot, he clumsily dumped all his momentum to extending his sword. He fell maladroitly, and stumbled. The attacker struck with his blade—which Aeolos barely parried—and the bayonet of his pistol—which jammed it's way into Aeolos's chest. Flesh tore and ribs snapped. Aeolus held his breath in fear of blood flooding his lungs. The attacker raised his blade, but the blow never landed.

What did land was a pistol round. Which burrowed in and out of the attacker's head. Hewell dropped the still smoking pistol and engaged another enemy, striking a too hard blow on his foe's sword to slap it a side. He separated the foe from his arm then the head from his body. Aeolos looked back at his own wound, then separated the Bayonet from the pistol itself to make sure the extra load did not tear more skin. But fearing pulling it out would do more harm than help, he left it in. He pushed the pain aside in favour of the present, which was the fact that his partner need his help and they needed to buy time for the empress.

Aeolos charged forward, taking one of the attackers who was preoccupied with Hewell with a stab through the spine. Then he turned to another. Aeolos dropped low, slashing at the man's left foot then attacking from the right. The moment the attacker put his weight on the wounded foot, he collapsed and Aeolos sank in his blade. He heard another attack from behind and spun to meet the threat. But twisting his abdomen meant twisting his wound, and pain exploded through his chest. His vision clouded with stars and he slipped on his own blood. The attacker would have finished him off if not for Hewell's intervention.

"Go back ya' idiot!"

"No, I've got to…. Got to—"

"Got to go! Void take ya', don't be stupid and go. The ship's already here." Aeolos looked behind him, Hewell was right, the ship was docking. He could go, and he considered it. But leave Hewell? No.

As Hewell went back to fight more attackers, Aeolos forced himself to his feet. He saw a man approach Hewell to strike from behind. A flechette to the back of the head made short work of him. Aeolos raised his sword and put all of his power—what little was left—into one last charge. But even as he surged forward, pain took him. And blackness enveloped him before he could even strike another blow.


	4. Service - Part 3

Service - Part 3

While Emily had been busying herself with the complaints of the citizens, Aeolos had been standing admiring the gloomy sky, wishing in the back of his mind that the day would quickly end. He saw a couple of things that could be improved with the Cobalt Guard, the way their rifles would do them little good in the small confines of Old Port District, how the route could be more direct had they taken different streets. Something kept him silent. Maybe it was the fear of someone recognizing him. Or maybe it was the guilt.

The guilt of having been there that day. Participating on the job that cost the previous Kaldwin her life, and cast a blanket of grief over the entirety of the empire. He was there. He held Emily in place after Daud took her from Jessamine and put a blade in the Empress. So excited was he, to be included on a high stakes job despite being so young. Only sixteen. Other Whalers weren't so sure; some doubted his ability, some believed they ought to be in his shoes, some patted him on the back. Personally, Aeolos was proud that Daud held him in high enough respect. But that was before he held the thrashing Emily in his arms, crying her mother's name over and over again.

He barreled through the next few weeks with barely any sleep. Often her crying would haunt him as he lay on his back, eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. His punishment did not end there however. The last nail in the coffin came a month after that, when he gave the heir to the empire over to the Pendletons. The fight had gone out of her, worn out by the days spent in her cell in the Chamber of Commerce. However, before they took her away she turned to face the Whalers one last time. Her voice had no venom, her posture only belaboured the obvious fact that she was sad, tired, and that close to being broken. But her words bothered him to this day, "Corvo is going to come for you all." And come for the he did.

Shutting her out as best he could, he kept his eyes to the ground while the rest of the guards fawned at her beauty, both graceful and elegant. When she spoke, he filled his mind with the squawking of seagulls, the tolling of a distant whaling ship. Her very presence was a threat to the life he had worked so hard to rebuild.

So he could not very much figure out what it was the drove him to burst into full sprint as soon as the Empress' carriage made off. What made him charge into the cloud of smoke after he figured out that the attackers had the sewers on their side and managed to cut off her escape. What willed him to put in jeopardy the neat life he managed to scrounge after his last was blown cleanly out of the water.

 _What_ exactly was it? Madness? Guilt? Some deep sense of duty?

He pondered the question even as he floated in the darkness he fell into.

Where was he… oh right halfway to the barge, probably dying if not dead already. Master Daud would strongly disapprove, charging into the fray like that. Not that the man had anything against the use of brute force. But with a ringing in his head, a puncture in his abdomen, and almost as much blood outside of him as there should have been inside—that charge was over before it even began. Daud would have looked on, hands crossed, his brow furrowing only a little more than it already was. Maybe he'd tilt his head slightly and walk away, but not before he had muttered a gravelly "What a waste" in a tone of finality. Good potential, wasted. A life, wasted. A Whaler, dead.

He was dead wasn't he?

The very moment he asked himself that question, life snatched Aeolos from death's grip and hauled him back to the land of the living. Consciousness returned, though only for a moment. Blackness came again, then consciousness once more with the added bonus of pain flaring in his chest. He could see Corvo and barely felt the man slap him awake. The Lord Protector fell from his view as his head fell sideways. What should have been soft thud jarred Aeolos enough to dip him shortly in blackness before he pulled himself back out. Now he could see more Watchmen, possibly the Wrenhaven Patrol, set an equally wounded Trelov sideways. And then Hewell. A muffled voice spoke. Something about getting medical attention for three men, and quickly if they were to live. Then more blackness.

He woke shortly afterwards in a room that was much too gaudy to have belonged to anything other than the aristocracy. It was large, with dark oak panels and tapestry in some sections to cover the stone. Stained glass gave the light a noticeable tint that mixed with the electric lights. A nurse spoke some words to him that he himself didn't catch. She must have spoken for another few sentences before it became clear that it was lost on him. She walked away, carrying with her a basket of bandages and surgical tools—the tool soaked in some medicinal liquid, but all of it were soaked with blood. _My blood._ Aeolos realized. He looked around the room, his vision slowly recovering its depth until the cobalt blue banner above the fireplace acquiesced.

 _Oh bloody hell._ Dread filled Aeolos as he scrambled to get out of bed. He felt pain bloom in his side. Red spread on the bandage's field of white. Falling back into the bed, blackness filled his vision once more.

This was getting annoying.

Fearful of losing his consciousness once more Aeolos took it easy the next time he regained it. In fact, with whatever lucidity granted in his time in the blackness he tried to come in terms with the fact that despite not dying, he may have lost his life. Would she have him imprisoned? Tortured? No, not Kaldwin's style. A trial perhaps. Vengeance in a public spectacle thinly veiled as justice. She could just forgive him, say he was a victim of unfortunate circumstances. Then make that an equally public spectacle. It would only strengthen the masses' love for Emily Kaldwin. Perhaps they could even spin it to support her campaign to reconstruct more of the city. He was a victim of a city in a horrible state; a sixteen year old who didn't know any better. But look how much he's changed. Look at how much we can change this city. Dunwall's upper social strata always had a way of spinning stories. He seen them do it every single time the Whalers spilled highborn blood.

The next time he was awake he had only caught a glimpse of the Empress as she looked away from him. Aeolos tried to figure out how to long she had been there and how long she had been looking at him. She did not want to speak with him probably because she already had something planned. And speaking would only spoil it. He sank back in his bed and learned to accept his fate.

When he woke next time, the nurse asked him some questions about how he was feeling. And he answered honestly. He felt like shit. And he wanted to be out of the place. Death was not that bad of an exit if it let him out of what misfortune fate had thought up for him. He did not mention the suicidal thoughts of course. She explained that the blade missed his lungs by mere centimetres, and that it would not have caused so much damage to his liver and diaphragm muscles if he had not been swinging so vigorously.

But the prognosis was good. With care, perhaps some therapy and a hell of a lot of time, the wounds would heal. He was glad to hear that. She filled out some forms, gave him broth, and he went back to sleep.

He knew he was getting better because the next time he came awake, it was in response to the approaching Corvo. Some things the Whalers drilled into him about awareness never went away.

"Aeolos, isn't it?"

He nodded, sitting up. Perhaps when they gave the news to him, he could face it with some dignity instead of lying down.

"No need to get up, not on my account."

"It's only proper." At this point Aeolos was preparing for the hammer to fall. Perhaps it would not be so brutal and he would be able to keep some of his dignity. The man looked nice enough.

"Very well." The Lord Protector's hands unclasped from behind his back and he rubbed them together. "The doctors tell me you're healing remarkably well. That it hadn't been as bad as it looked. How are you?"

"Frankly I don't know what to make this, so I'll take the doctors' word for it." He replied, treading carefully. "Except that you have my thanks. Although any old hospital would do."

"The Empress insisted to have you brought to the Tower's infirmary and have Dunwall's finest care." The Lord Protector licked his lips; his hands were still rubbing together. If Aeolos didn't know any better, he would say the man was feeling awkward, perhaps even nervous. "But you are very much welcome. It is the very least her majesty could have done—"

"Corvo! Not drilling our guests again are we?" Demanded a young voice, teasing the man under an authoritative guise. "Watchman Aeolos!" The Empress had a certain skip to her step. A teenage playfulness to her. Well... she was a teenager. "My dear lord protector wasn't bothering you was he?" She bent down towards him slightly, behind her one leg lifted restlessly. She looked like a schoolgirl inspecting a flower or a little animal on the side of the road.

"No, your majesty. He wasn't."

She turned slightly to face Corvo and raised an eyebrow before turning back to him. "The doctors tell me we should give you some time to rest, so I won't bother you long."

A warmth was beginning to light in Aeolos chest. He played a card to be sure. "Your majesty, no moment in your presence is a bother."

She stood straighter. Her lips quivered, but from the way her eyes lit up she apparently found it pleasant… or amusing. "Thank you. For your courage and flattery both. My Lord Protector says we would not have been able to make it out off that pier, if not for your valiance. Or, as a matter of fact out of that alley. We have the entire Old Port Watch to thank for that, but you went above and beyond the call of duty."

"Any man in my position would have done the same."

"And any man to have done so will have my thanks and be rewarded for your efforts." He opened his mouth to say something but then she took another step closer and bent down to look him closer once more. She narrowed her eyes, then smiled. "This is your moment, Watchman Aeolos, and you deserve it. I would not have timidity or modesty get in the way of that."

"Of course not, your majesty." Aeolos straightened and allowed himself a meek smile. "I'm proud to have been able to help." He began to fill with hope, perhaps she never did figure it out. Perhaps, she never will. And she was here truly to thank him and wish him a speedy recovery. As he saw her leave the room she was smiling even more broadly then when she convinced him to. He caught the sight of one of the Cobalts on the bed opposite. And his expression was sour, there was something in his eyes that could have been spite. He shuddered with what might have been a scoff.

Aeolos wondered what his deal was, and he found several days later. When on his way back from the restroom, the man—Trelov he remembered his name now—had knocked his whole tray of his food. He tried to pick it up but failed since he had one less leg and one less arm. _Oh,_ Aeolos thought.

"I didn't ask for your bloody help!" The man lashed out when Aeolos picked up the things. Aeolos said nothing, only setting the things down on a nearby table and walked away. "Sorry, I didn't mean to be so callous." The man called back after Aeolos took a step. "It's just difficult, you know."

"I understand."

"Do you?" Trelov snapped yet again, though the man realised he had come across so much meaner than he intended. He looked regretful as soon as he did it.

"I know what it's like to have everything change. Everything you've come to know and like taken from you. No warning, no explanation. You probably did not deserve it, maybe you did. You never know."

"What do you do then?" it wasn't clear who the man was asking. It could have been Aeolos, or himself, or fate itself

"You make something out of it. There's always something to work with, dig in the rubble, and pull out something useful."

There was a look of hope his eyes, then a little bit of guilt. Then something flashed in his eyes that Aeolos could not quite recognize. Something was pulling his attention from him. Following his stare Aeolos found a couple waiting at the doorway, old and dressed in regular clothes. The man he did not recognize, but there was something about the woman that tickled his memory. An inhabitant of the Old Port District perhaps. "Uncle Harold! Aunt Olena!" Trelov waved with his good arm. Aeolos took his leave and wondered how the man had come to lose the arm, remembering that he had only been shot in the foot.

Information that he found out several days later when he met a couple of nurses talking. Aeolos' bed was nearest the window of the infirmary and the nurses were both peering out to see the ceremony outside.

The Empress held a small private service for the Cobalt Guard. More intimate than the one that would take place for the City Watch. The one Aeolos was invited to.

"Poor lad that Trelov." Said the first.

"Yeah a shame, too. Quite a looker that one." The second replied.

"I heard his hand cut clean off."

" 'Twas, but his leg is the nastier business. The bullet had turned the bone to powder, it had gone all over and they had to amputate before they lost the entire leg. Poor lad. At the very least, the empress has his back. Bless her."

"Yeah, I don't know what I'd do if I were like that... No job'll hire me. And no family to support me… Bless that Kaldwin… she really does care."

Bless her...

Aeolos remembered the time he'd fallen off one of the Chamber of Commerce windows back when he was training. He broken his leg, and the constant fear nagged at him: will he have to cut it off? But the Whalers assured him. Daud was powerful, Daud had _help_. He did not have to worry. In way this was much of the same relief—

"Wait a minute, miss." He inquired of one the nurses, "Trelov doesn't have family?"

"Yeah," The first answered, "his parents died with the Rat Plague. And the Cobalts rarely marry either. Believe me if one of those boys were up for—"

"But his Aunt and Uncle?"

"Aunt and uncle?" The second woman looked utterly confused, "All his relatives are back in Tyvia. They never reached out—"

"Are you sure?"

"I've served in Dunwall tower for three years," the older one replied, "I think I'd know if he had any more family."

Something was wrong. And that drive kicked in again. The same one that kept confounding him. Everything clicked a moment later when was almost out of the room. He grabbed a couple of syringes off the medical tray and grabbed the Coat of a Cobalt that had been hung near the exit. The Guard at the door tried to stop him and Aeolos knew with his wounds he could never knock the man out. Not without the element of surprise, or tearing his stitches. So he jabbed the syringe into the man's thigh.

Whatever it was, the opiate worked quickly. The man's eye's rolled into the back of his head and he slumped against the opposite wall. Aeolos put the coat on quickly and went for the courtyard as fast as he could without attracting a large amount of attention. He still had one more opiate syringe and that meant one chance. He still wasn't sure all he theorized about Trelov was true. So sedating him was the way to go.

The plan collapsed as soon as he approached the courtyard. He was nearly there and would have arrived with a syringe to spare if it had not been for the two guards that rushed him from behind. He had heard them coming from a mile off. All the Cobalts were in the court either the subject of the ceremony or witnessing the ceremony. These guards were all running, with their helmets and swords and belts jangling. And they didn't even ask Aeolos, a suspicious subject headed for the Empress to stop until they were at arm's length. In fact one grabbed his shoulder.

"Halt—"

He got a syringe the arm. And while he dropped Aeolos barreled into the man's partner. They rolled on the grass and Aeolos ended it with a Tyvian chokehold before depriving the man of his pistol. Which was a good thing considering the fact that the courtyard were lined with Cobalt watching the ceremony. The syringe plan would never have worked. Aeolos struggled to a hedge hid behind it, although collapsed would have been a closer description. He gingerly touched his side, and swore when his hand came back red. No time for that now. He searched the slightly elevated stage where the Empress was awarding the members of the Cobalt. Trelov would be on soon.

Aeolos leveled the pistol.

He could have been wrong. And Trelov would be murdered. And regardless of whether Aeolos _was_ part of the Whaler team that assassinated Jessamine Kaldwin or not, they would have him executed. He looked for clues in the way the man stood. Maybe something in his hands—hand. He would be close to the empress, face to face in fact for the awarding. So he might have something in his hand, a knife. Or perhaps he had a grenade primed somewhere in that flamboyant ceremony uniform. Trelov was next in line now.

There _was_ something off about his hand. It did not match the rest of the salute the Cobalt Guard was giving. However the man _had_ just lost two limbs. And falling on stage, before the empress was not something you want on your ledger. The Human body did many strange things to balance itself, from the head, to the toes, to the tips of the fingers. But Aeolos had spent months with a broken leg too, and the way the Cobalt held his arm at his side was not normal. In fact, it was putting him off balance.

The Cobalt Guardsman Trelov was palming something.

And Aeolos pulled the trigger.

-x-x-x-

Emily looked at Aeolos with a renewed interest. Her hands were folded on her lap, her blue and gold attire was crisp in the light of the room. Aeolos had never seen this particular room in many of the pictures the public had of Dunwall Tower. It had been part of the Hiram Burrows' many additions to the tower following his rise to regency and fall into paranoia. He studied the room in great interest. From the entrance to the halfway point the room was filled with rows of book shelves. Then a large map of the Isles with enigmatic symbols pointing to various areas. The Guards that had led him from his room took him every further in and up a set of stairs to where the Empress was sitting in throne like study. Both chair and table were elevated, Emily and Corvo next to her looked down upon the entering Aeolos.

Where Emily's expression was one of curiosity and piqued interest. Corvo's was cold and analytical. Of course, despite having been brought from the infirmary, Aeolos had not spent all of the last few days there. The moment he pulled the trigger and watched Trelov fall in a spray of red, Guards were on him. He surrendered immediately, but that did not mean the Guards were not a little over zealous and proceeded to land a few blows on him before they dragged him away and tossed him into a cell. Then another few hours were spent in the cell, Aeolos curling into a fetal position and keeping pressure on his torn sutures. The physicians later rushed in and took care of that. He was also rushed directly back to the infirmary where they took to repair him with great care—it was said under the order of the empress, but Aeolos did not trust his drugged self as much.

The next few days Corvo came and went. The first day to deliver the Empress' gratitude for his actions, a needle tainted with a venom from a Pandyssian viper was found in Trelov's sleeve. He had been right after all, Unfortunately, the Empress is still caught up trying to fix the damage the attack had left in its wake. Which was bollocks of course. Corvo still did not trust him enough to let Emily near him. But Aeolos played along as the man delivered the gratitude and went away.

The next day he was not so tense, "The Empress is still very busy I'm afraid. I hope you'll forgive her."

"No offense done, my lord. I appreciate the time you delegate to visiting me."

"I don't think I have had chance to say this, but I think I owe a great thanks to you as well for your effort in safeguarding the Empress." Aeolos scanned his eyes and saw true gratitude in them. But there was also something else.

"Anything for my Empress."

"Most people only ever get to save her highness once, you really are raising the bar for City Watch. Your fighting is also superb I must say, but I don't recall the City Watch adopting Serkonan Blade-dancing into training."

"They haven't. My blade-dancing has never been popular in the Watch. But I've always been far too slight to use Gristlian Iron stances effectively. I learned the Blade-dance growing up. And not even my Watch Captain can deny they work."

"Curious for a child to learn the blade-dance growing up."

"I was an orphan, sir. I was raised on a Serkonan privateer ship out of Karnaca. I never knew my parents, but those men and women taught me well enough." It was true. Before Daud found him he spent his childhood aboard one. He learned some swordplay and how to brawl but that was the end of that. Daud was responsible for the rest.

"Is that why you carried flechettes as well?"

"Can't hurt to have contingencies, and the Watch has no regulations against that sort of thing."

"No. No, they don't. but I'm thankful that didn't stop you." Corvo paused and looked at his arm. "Did that happen recently?" indicating to rather menacing burn on Aeolos' hand.

"Accident with a whale oil pistol, a couple of years back. As you can see," He flexed the arm dexterously, "It was only skin deep." Corvo nodded and then left after some pleasantries were exchanged. Aeolos caught himself rubbing the scar not long after.

Now, standing before the Empress and the Royal Protector, he caught himself doing the same and stilled himself. It had hurt, burning himself. However when the alternative was walking around with the outsider's mark—however faded—Aeolos made the decision in a heartbeat. In front of him Emily examined him some more and shifted in her seat.

"I have not been able to thank you properly Watchman Aeolos, for your actions in foiling not just one but two attempts on my life. At one point I was inclined to give you anything you desired." Aeolos smiled inwardly at that. She seemed to catch it and smirked at well. "However, in this moment I have one offer. You may accept, or you may decline and ask for another—I won't be offended. You show great talent, skill in combat and a sharp mind between those ears of yours. You made the right decisions even with so much of the odds stacked against you. All the fine qualities Corvo and I look for… in a Cobalt Guardsman."

 _Did I hear that right?_ Aeolos went through several expressions in a second. Behind him the Cobalt had their own share of surprise. The only expressions that did not waver were Corvo's and Emily's.

"Your Highness, I… don't know what to say."

"Say yes! or no! Whatever you think is right as long as it's not cryptic." Emily went in a voice that bordered on childish. Her smile seemed to indicate so before she caught herself and returned to a regal position. "Corvo tells me you've had training. Not only in the Watch but under Serkonan privateers." _So what was what that was about_. Aeolos thought to himself, _a job interview._

"Pirates." Corvo said silently.

"Corvo!"

"I'm afraid he's right, your highness. They're just mercenaries. Pirates working for the highest bidder. It might not bode well to have someone with such a… past serve you."

"Pah! The past is the past, Watchman Aeolos. I deal with the future. Corvo has promised to remain absolutely neutral and will train you as he did the other Cobalt. The decision was up to me, but I would rather hear your opinion."

This was it. Aeolos could have anything he wanted. Riches, fame, probably a title and some land. Or a ship and enough money to disappear. Leave all this behind him, Daud, Corvo, The Empress. To finally walk away from this all and…

...and what?

Retire to some island, fish and collect seashells for the remainder of his days. Which, being the age of twenty one, meant a _lot_ of days. Aeolos recalled again the spark he felt all those days ago at the day of the first attack. Then again as he rushed to stop Trelov. He had felt… comfortable. Beyond that even, he felt alive and active. He felt right. Maybe Aeolos had already redeemed himself over the last few days. Guilt or not, he knew what he now had to do, and that was to say "Yes. I accept."


End file.
